I have, pinned like a small thistle,
a sadness in my heart
because you left, ungrateful, from the nest
and my life, so serene,
you condemned to feel pain.
I can never tear off my chest,
Never! the sharp small thistle.
And I wander, because of all the wrong you’ve done to me
with a dying soul,
without faith, without a nest, no love …

I don’t know why you left me
if I worshiped you with increasing fervor.
I don’t know why you cheated that way,
without showing your indifference …
With your love, I was a happy man
and I never thought that your burning passion
was the dagger that would open
this wound in my heart.

I want, that in your wandering life,
you know that alone and sad
I trek through the paths of the world
with memories that have taken root
likes thorns of thistles…
I ask that sometime we run into each other
to see if you’ve finally found
everything you’ve dreamed unconscious.
And maybe afterwards we can
start the two of us all over again!